London Calling
by FiftyShades-of-Nope
Summary: Cherise and Edgar Delany are a daughter-father duo, working as medical practitioners in the Victorian London underground. When they take an offer from their friend and savior, Henry Green, they manage to get tied up with the Rooks and devilish Frye twins. For Elise, an under-confident but clever young nurse, the risks she will face will change her forever.
1. A Doctor and His Daughter

" _What a way to start the day"_ ,Cherise thought to herself, holding down the thigh of a man twice her size, as her father pulled a large shard of glass from the thick flesh. Blood stained her forearms, smearing on the front of her white nightgown, and droplets spattered upon her face. Strands of her auburn hair stuck to her rosy, freckled cheeks, as beads of sweat rolled down her brow. The sun had not risen more than an hour ago, and her pale green eyes still felt heavy from sleep. With all the relentless screaming from their large patient, she doubted she would stay groggy for long.

Her father was more collected – more awake. Through his thick spectacles she could see his dark eyes fixed in concentration, every muscle relaxed and moving with delicate precision. He had certainly gotten the blunt of the gore, white dress shirt completely stained up to the chest in crimson with tiny droplets in his greying, red beard to match. He inhaled deeply while swiping his wrinkled forehead with the back of his arm, and exhaled slowly. It really was a shame his career had fallen apart; he really was a natural talent at doctoring.

"Press the rag firmly now," he instructed in a feathery, English accent, "I'm going to remove it completely."

Cherise swallowed before nodding at her father. Pressing all of her weight into the wound, her father gave the piece of glass one last tug. The patient let out a roar in agony, lifting his back from the stretcher and slamming it back down again. Blood poured from the gash like a river, and Cherise could feel the warmth rising to her hands through the cloth as she pushed harder. Her father turned, placing the glass into a tin container, and whipped out a thread and needle from his shirt pocket. When the needle was threaded, he instructed Cherise to move her hands to hold the opening together, and then gave a quick swipe over the laceration with some alcohol. Without further warning, he plunged the needle into the skin, and got to work.

The patient, a member of London's newest gang, groaned with every stitch, grinding his teeth on a piece of cloth her father had given him. Henry Green may have been in good standing with the Delany family, but that didn't mean he wouldn't owe them for this. Just after sunrise was a dreadful time to be woken up to a bleeding, hollering man being shoved through your front door.

"All finished," Cherise's father tossed the needle into the tin container, throwing his hands up at a job well done, "the stiches have all been tied."

Cherise lifted the rag from where she had held the wound together, gloves covered in slick red, the unmistakable, metallic odor filling her nostrils. Letting out a curt sigh, she blew on her short bangs and removed her gloves. Spotting a clean patch on her lacy, cotton nightgown, she wiped the perspiration from her face onto the fabric, while her father clattered with his supplies at the workbench behind them.

"I swear; all these early morning operations are the reason I'm balding." Her father sighed, taking a drink of water from a crystal glass. He placed it beside the tin container, perched upon an elevated surgical tray beside the stretcher. "Well Sir, do have a drink if you please."

The patient sat up on his elbows, cleft chin pushing into his chest as his beady eyes peered at the handiwork on his leg. If it hadn't been for his cries of pain moments ago, his bald head and massive shoulders would have intimidated anyone. Even when venerable, Cherise couldn't imagine anyone wanting to take him on. The black pants and lime jacket he wore seemed to be popping up all over London lately. It was clear he was involved with the Rooks. Green better have had an explanation for that as well. As if reading her mind, Cherise's father patted her on the shoulder.

"Would you tell Mr. Green's friend had a splendid operation, dearest? I think it best we not keep him waiting."

Cherise nodded and bowed her head, as her father began talking the patient through the rest. Creeping up from the cellar stairs, Cherise poked her head into the hall to see if Henry was still waiting there. There in the hall was a tall, dark skinned man dressed in a white and gold tunic. His black eyes stared patiently at his pointed slippers, colorful sashes draped around his square hips. The young English woman held back a smile as she continued into the hall, relieved that he hadn't left the domicile.

"Ah," he spoke with a voice light like a breeze, glancing up to greet her with a smile, "Ms. Delany."

"How do you do?" Cherise replied, giving a quick bow. "The man you sent to us should be alright. The wound was deep, but we were able to stitch him up."

"That's good news," Henry exhaled, standing up from the wall, "I didn't know where else to bring him in such short notice."

From what he described to her father, Henry was being assisted by the man with some business in a nearby warehouse. He never went into much detail with stories of his work, but he vaguely mentioned a small explosion. Glass from the window had exploded outward, embedding a piece in his assistant's leg. The bleeding was certainly bad, so he brought him to the nearest place he knew to get help. The Delany's front door.

"You know we are always willing to help, Henry. After what you did for us, against the Blighters I mean, it's the least we can do." She pushed her brows together, mouth tugging upward at the corners. As much as she found herself frustrated with some of the work he brought in, she couldn't help but feel it was all worth it for just that.

"It was merely the luck of the draw," he dismissed with a shake of his head, his raven hair swaying, "I'm not able to do such things for everyone. It just so happened that in your case, I could."

"Well," Cherise said, cocking her head and pouting her lower lip, "the only reason we can even stay in business is because of you, so I thank you for it anyway."

It was hard thinking about what might have happened if Henry had failed, or chose to turn a blind eye. She certainly wouldn't be standing there, let alone speaking with Mr. Green. At one point, the Blighters received orders to run them out of London. Perhaps a competitor wanted them gone; maybe an official with suspicious connections needed their illegal franchise to disappear. Whatever the case, Henry was there to stop it when they invaded their home. Maybe it really was a matter of being in the right place at the right time, but she had a roof over her head because of it.

"You're very welcome," Henry gave a chortle, unable to hold back a grin, "but I'm afraid I'm not quite done asking you for favors."

"A favor?" Cherise furrowed her brow, frowning a bit.

"Perhaps it's best we sit down first?" He added, motioning towards the parlor with his hand.

"Certainly, but I should probably get dressed first." Cherise agreed.

In the parlor, Henry positioned himself on the loveseat as Cherise meddled in the kitchen to make tea. He glanced around the room, the same red wallpaper with gold damask patterns that were on every wall in the house. A wooden boarder covered a fourth of the wall's height, above it various frames and trinkets of all sizes. The space was intimate, not too big and furnished with a few couches, a Turkish rug centered on the floor with a coffee table on top. In the corner, a cherry wood grandfather clock chimed beside a potted plant. It had a warm aura; a certain something that made the place feel inviting.

"Is it seven o'clock already?" Cherise called from the kitchen, tea kettle screeching soon after.

"I suppose so." Henry said with a chuckle, having seen Cherise scramble for the stove through the kitchen doorway.

"You must excuse me for my clumsiness," Cherise sighed, swiping a piece of hair back into her loose up-do, entering the room with a small plate and teacup in the other hand, "I didn't really sleep well last night…"

"Why is that?" Henry frowned, steady hands taking the porcelain plate from her fingers.

"Well," she lowered her voice, a bit of heat rising to her cheeks, "I was quite entranced by my novel, _The Headless Horseman_. However, when it came time for me to rest my head, I'm afraid I simply couldn't stop my heart from racing."

"Were you frightened?" Henry added, raising a brow as he rested his teacup on his knee.

"N-not terribly," she stuttered, "just a bit…"

"Well," he reassured, holding back a laugh, "just remember that a story is just a story. There's nothing to fear."

"Yes, of course…" Cherise's voice trailed off, as she seated herself on the couch opposite of Henry, "…speaking of stories, did you have one for me then?"

"Ah, indeed!" Henry's eyes widened and he placed his tea upon the table, "I was going to ask you and your father a bit of a favor—if you didn't mind. I have some allies who recently came to London who may need your help from time to time."

"What's all this now?" Cherise's father entered the room, wiping his hands on a piece of cloth, "Friends of yours need some help?"

"Mr. Delany." Henry had begun to stand, only to have the motion dismissed by the doctor.

"No need for such formalities, Henry. And call me Edgar." He beamed at the young man, strolling over to give him a pat on the shoulder.

"Mr. De – ah, Edgar," Henry corrected, "I hope it wouldn't be too much trouble."

"Nonsense!" Edgar replied, tsking at the very thought of it, "Any friend of yours is a friend of ours."

"I'm glad to hear it," Henry gave a sheepish smile, gesturing for the older man to take a seat, "and I'm sure they will be glad as well."

Cherise's father positioned himself upon an armchair, crossing his long legs as he did so. He pulled the ends of his straight, black trousers to cover his ankles, exposing a bit of his tall, green socks. Adjusting the suspenders that lay across his broad shoulders, he finally managed to make his lanky body comfortable.

"Will we be performing services for these folks like we have been for you?" The doctor fiddled with his beard, long fingers gently tugging as he thought.

"Well, actually," Henry's eyes bounced back and forth between the pair, "you already have."

"What?" Cherise cocked her head to the side, lips pursed slightly.

"That man I sent in earlier, he's a member of the Rooks, as I'm sure you've figured out."

"Yes," Edgar gave a curt nod, "I was going to ask you about your relationship."

"He works for my allies – the ones who may need your help."

Edgar sighed, crossing his arms and looking to the ceiling. He chewed his lower lip as he always did while in thought, and in his silence, Cherise had some questions of her own.

"What kind of people are they, Henry?" Cherise narrowed her eyes, leaning forward to read his face as he answered. "I never took you for one to mingle with gangs."

Henry understood her suspicion. After all, the Delanys had almost been run out of London by the Blighters a few months ago. The Templars had extensive underground connections, and they didn't like competition. Edgar was certainly a threat, once having been a professor at the University for medical studies.

He refused to work with the Blighters due to their poor treatment of the less fortunate, but with a career ripped away by scandal, he became an easy target for their aggressions. He had little friends of status left, and had even less influence himself. With a single daughter being the only family he had in London, the doctor was defenseless.

But Henry knew the Rooks – or he knew their founders. Those siblings would never approve of preying on the weak, and certainly wouldn't have their gang chasing families from their homes. He just hoped that the Delanys could trust him; that they could trust the Rooks.

"They are a pair of twins," Henry began, looking Cherise in the eye, "and they happen to be close in age to us both."

Cherise could hardly believe what she had heard. How was it that these two people, people her age for that matter, could be so influential? The Rooks seemed to almost spring up overnight, and their strength and numbers was growing by the day. Still, she held back her inquiries until Henry was done explaining. There was more to this story, she was sure.

"They were raised under the same order as I was, and came to London to restore that order here. Our enemies are strong in London, so I was more than relieved to have their help. I didn't expect them to take their mischief to the streets, but they have done great by this city."

"I see," Cherise said, feeling somewhat relieved. "But are they good _people_ , Henry?"

"Most certainly," Henry replied, looking quite serious, "they fight for those who cannot fight for themselves. They bring justice in ways authorities simply cannot."

"And they do this through the rooks?" Cherise raised her brows, not quite convinced.

"I didn't say their methods were sophisticated by any stretch." Henry gave a soft chuckle.

Cherise nodded, still curious, but satisfied enough. After all, who was she to judge when her and her father were currently practicing illegally? Now it was her father's turn to ask questions.

"What will they have us do? More of what we did today?"

"Essentially," Henry folded his hands together, "but they did want to meet you before they took their business further."

"Excellent!" Edgar clapped his hands together, grinning ear to ear, "I was about to plead we do just that! It's not that I didn't trust your word, Mr. Green, I simply cannot put my faith into strangers I had never met."

"I understand perfectly, Mr. De- um, Edgar." Henry cleared his throat, correcting himself immediately. "I've been thinking about having you all meet somewhere near Westminster Abby. If you don't mind, I can set up an arrangement for some time this afternoon."

"Sounds like a plan, Henry." Cherise chirped, standing as she placed her hands on her hips.

"Will you be escorting us, Mr. Green?" Edgar cut in, shooting his daughter a glance.

"Yes, of course." Henry agreed.

"Excellent!" Edgar let out a hearty laugh, walking over to Henry with open arms, embracing the foreign man as he stood from his seat. "Thank you for your cooperation as always, Mr. Green."

"And the same to you, Mr. Delany –" Henry winced at the tight embrace, and stood back to shake the doctor's hand, "oh, and you too, Ms. Cherise."

Cherise felt a warmth rise to her cheeks as Henry gave her a dazzling smile, and gestured farewell before exiting the room. His charm was the kind that was unintentional, but striking to her none the less.

Henry headed up the stairs, escaping through the window on the second floor. From there he took to the rooftops as to not be spotted leaving the home from the street. When he was sure that Henry had left, Edgar turned to his daughter, a stern look etched upon his face. He strode over to her, placing his hands over her shoulders.

"Now Cherise, you mustn't make such bold statements. You cannot simply assume that you can wander downtown without an escort."

"I'm sorry father… I didn't even think to ask for one. I thought that you being there would be enough."

Edgar sighed, his features softening. "I simply want you to start making a habit of asking. For now, it would be fine, but in the future there will be times where I am not to accompany you. When that time comes, you must think of your safety."

"I understand, father…" Cherise couldn't help but sulk, looking to her feet in shame. She hated disappointing her father more than anything.

"You are a clever girl, Cherise," her father spoke softly, placing a hand on her head, "but London can be a dangerous place. Please, do remember that you are just a woman. One woman cannot fend for herself all alone."

Cherise nodded, the praise she received bringing a faint smile to her face. Still, she had to wonder just how dangerous London could really be. With the life she lived, how could it have possibly been any worse? As the time to meet the Frye twins drew near, she would soon have her answer.


	2. Birth of A Deal

Cherise stared intently at the dandelions that littered the lawn just outside the Abbey, their yellow petals bright in the afternoon sun. The weather was hot, but the shade of the cathedral and the sweet-smelling breeze helped to cool down the summer haze. Edgar looked to the cloudless sky, silent in waiting. It had been several hours since Henry had visited their home, and to be honest, the pair had nothing better to do after the morning's events.

Edgar had put on one of his best jackets, without looking too formal of course, and even shined his shoes. It was an aspect of his professionalism that he simply couldn't shake; although it had been quite some time since he lost his position at the university. Cherise cleaned up quite nicely herself, wearing her favorite emerald jacket, and even adorning a lacy blouse underneath. Still, she couldn't quite seem to force herself to wear a skirt to the ankles – a shame, Edgar thought.

Flipping out a pocket watch from his dress pocket, the doctor confirmed the thought that had been on his mind for the past fifteen minutes. Henry was late. Blinking slowly, Edgar simply sighed and put the pocket watch back in its place and smiled. More time to enjoy the lovely weather.

"Cherise," Edgar called to his daughter, "Henry's running a bit late, dear."

She was not so forgiving. This kind of weather suited her father, but he wasn't wearing a corset. Not to mention that the sun never failed to make her fair skin flush an embarrassing shade of pink. The longer Henry would make her wait, the more she would melt into a mess with the day's heat. She was tempted to let these thoughts out upon her father, but instead decided to hold her tongue and continue to stare at the weeds.

"Oh," without looking up, Cherise heard her father call again, "perhaps I spoke too soon!"

Through the crowd of strollers and passersby, Cherise could make out the distinct patterns of flickering gold on Henry's tunic. Behind him were two others, a male and female of about the same height. _The twins_ , she thought. Henry first greeted her father, shaking Edgar's hand in both of his, before waving his arm to introduce the siblings.

With a quickened pace, Cherise made her way over to her father's side. With every step closed the conversation between the four became more clear, and just as she took her place beside her father, her name was spoken loud and clear.

"And this," Henry introduced with a grin, "is Ms. Delany."

"A pleasure," she added, giving a small courtesy, "but do call me Cherise."

Giving her hand to the Frye sister to shake, she studied both of their faces carefully. Both shared a freckled complexion much like her own, and both shared the same dark brown hair as each other. Besides that, they didn't look too much alike. The Frye sister had the face of a doll, but had fierce blue-green eyes that seemed to change color in the light. Based on the way she kept her hair braided in a low bun, and the fact that she was so daring to wear pants, Cherise was under the impression that this woman was of the hardworking variety.

The brother, on the other hand, seemed to be laxer in his dress, even going as far as to wear patched clothing. The cap pulled over his eyes made them harder to see, but from what Cherise could tell, they were hazel unlike his sister's blue. He didn't bother shaving the beard along his strong jawline, and she could just make out some faint scars on his cheek and brow. Perhaps he was the more brash of the two? She couldn't really tell, but the wry smile on his face suggested he might be of the mischievous variety.

Breaking her from her concentration, the sister gave her hand a firm shake, and gave her name. "Evie Frye – lovely meeting you." Turning to her brother, Evie introduced her twin. "And this is my brother, Jacob."

Without hesitation, Cherise gave Jacob her hand, but retracted it immediately after he was done shaking it. He had been looking her up and down since she had arrived, and a familiar feeling of unease rose into her chest. She was accustomed to people staring at her, especially with her father around. She knew he was likely ignorant of her father's reputation with his peers, but any extended looks she received led her to believe she was being judged.

"The pleasure is undoubtedly mine." His voice was deep and his accent rolled from the tongue smoothly. Cherise could feel a bit of heat rise to her face upon hearing it, but still couldn't help but feel suspicious.

"Well then," Evie spoke up, eyeing her brother curiously, "now that we all know each other, let's talk business."

"Of course," Edgar replied, placing his hands on his hips, "what is it that you require of us?"

"My brother and I have made many allies," Evie began, "but we are still new to the city in a lot of ways. We have plenty of people we have to look out for, and that means making sure they all receive treatment when needed."

"And so you were maybe hoping that we would be willing to help?" Edgar questioned, rubbing his beard.

"Well, yes, but not just that." Evie continued, glancing at Jacob who hadn't stopped looking over Cherise. "We needed someone who would keep quiet about our affairs – someone who wouldn't alert the authorities."

"Oh, I see," Edgar replied, a sly grin on his face, "so you were looking for a trusted ally in the underground as well."

"Precisely." Evie returned the expression, giving Edgar a nod.

Edgar, still smiling ear to ear, pondered the idea of forming a partnership. As much as the idea of having a solid source of revenue appealed to him, he couldn't help but be wary. Behind his smile was a heavy heart, and a history he could not ignore. When the secret came out about his affairs, those he came to trust the most over years of collaboration, turned their backs on him without a second thought.

 _This was different_ , he thought. These were not the staunch aristocrats of higher English society, chained to the obsession of normalcy. They had seen the streets, they had seen the scum of London and all of its blemishes. In that regard, most would think their kind untrustworthy. To someone like him, scorned and dishonored, they were the only kind he could trust.

"Anyone who is an ally of Henry is an ally of mine," Edgar lowered his hand from his beard and gave Evie a thumbs up, "I'm sure we can work something out."

At this, Cherise gave her father a quick glance, worry dancing behind her green eyes. They had only just met these people, and he was already willing to make a compromise on the spot. _Perhaps he was tired of being alone in his business_ , she thought. _Maybe he needs someone to put his faith into_. Either way, she would not be so easily swayed. As impressed as she was with Ms. Frye, the idea of working with a gang didn't sit well in her mind.

"What happens when the Blighters begin to notice Rooks frequenting our home?" Cherise strained to keep a frown of her face, raising her brows as she inquired.

"On top of compensating you for your services, my brother will see to it that his Rooks protect you and your father whenever necessary." Evie stated without hesitation, looking Cherise directly in the face. "In return, we also expect you to occasionally provide supplies, and notify us whenever you stumble upon information regarding the Blighters."

"And their employers." Jacob spoke up, taking a step closer to Cherise. A little too close, especially when he stood a good few inches above her.

Evie could see the tension in Cherise's stance, and gave her brother a quick smack to the arm. She could tell that the eccentric, little redhead had caught his attention, but it was imperative that he remain humble upon this first meeting.

"I wasn't aware the Blighters had employers… a chain of command maybe, but…" Cherise averted her eyes, feeling that she might begin to glare at the scrappy man before her.

"We'll discuss that further at another time," Evie put it bluntly, "when we've become accustomed to one another that is."

With that Henry reached out a hand and brushed Evie gently on the shoulder. Giving an apologetic look and a nervous smile to Cherise and her father, he then turned to the twins and spoke to them in a hushed tone.

"I hate to interrupt, but I believe you have some onlookers."

Evie's attention rested on the Indian man's face for a moment, taking in his features and studying his dark eyes, before glancing behind her. Off in the near distance, she spotted a figure resting upon a tree. From what she could see, he was sporting straight black trousers, a bowler hat, a thick mustache and an unmistakable red jacket. A Blighter. If she wasn't smarter, she would have assumed he was just giving dirty looks. That changed when he quickly turned away upon noticing her awareness of his presence.

"Well, I would say our time here is up then." Evie turned back to the Delanys, flashing a bright and innocent smile. "It really was a pleasure speaking with you both."

"Eh, well, yes I ah…" Edgar was a bit flustered at the sudden change in atmosphere, wondering if maybe they had offended the twins in some way, "a pleasure."

Evie took Edgar's hand and gave it a quick shake, then doing the same for Cherise. In the meantime, Jacob looked to the distance completely indiscrete, narrowing his eyes and standing on his toes to get a better look at the spy. This warranted another swift hit from Evie's hand, this time making her brother wince and rub his bicep.

"Mr. Green, would you like to accompany us?" Evie tilted her head in the direction of the Blighter, who had now just begun to leave his spot from the tree.

"Ah-," Henry hesitated for a moment, taking her in entirely before answering, "of course Ms. Frye…"

This warranted a bit of curiosity in Cherise, who had never seen Henry hesitate before answering such a simple question. The way he looked at her was different too; it was more attentive, more focused. A suspicion rose in her head as to the cause of his behavior, making the corner of her mouth twitch into a faint smile, but she wouldn't rush to any conclusions.

"Off we are then." With that, Evie began to jog after the fleeing Blighter, Henry following her closely.

"Thank you again, Mr. Delany and Ms. Delany, I hope to see you both soon!" Henry called out behind him.

"Wait!" Jacob called back, having been left behind. "Does this mean we have a deal then?"

But his sister was too far away now to hear him, having gone out in a full sprint in her pursuit of the suspect. With a throaty groan and a throw of his arms to the air, Jacob knew he would have to take out his frustration with his sister on her later. For now, he gave his attention to Edgar, who flinched at the twin's intense visage.

"Do we have a deal?" Jacob offered, sighing as he bounced in place to warmup for the run that would soon follow.

"Y-yes, I suppose…" Edgar stuttered, pushing up his glasses.

"Oh, fantastic!" Jacob clasped his hands together in mock celebration. "Don't worry, I'll tell my runaway sister the great news."

Tipping his hat, Jacob winked at the pair before bidding them both farewell. "I do so hope that my sister and I will speak with you both again _very_ soon."

Cherise crinkled her nose at the look the Frye brother gave them, and scoffed as he followed after his sister. Her father, of course, was completely oblivious to her disdain, and stared blankly into the distance. Still puzzled, he blinked a few times before waving Cherise along.

"Well, it seems that our business has been concluded for now." He stated, guiding Cherise with his hand on her shoulder, as they walked away together.

Luckily for the pair, the afternoon was beginning to fade, and with it the harsh heat that had accompanied with it. The yellow sun that had shone so brightly, was dimming into a warm orange on the horizon. Light krept from behind pink clouds and cast long shadows in the alleyways, that spread across the cobblestones as the pair made their way home.

Cherise couldn't help but feel uneasy, even with her father's hand on her shoulder. The fact that they were being watched earlier left the pit of her stomach feeling heavy with anxiety. Not to mention that she thought she saw the familiar crimson of a Blighter's jacket. _You're just nervous_ , she told herself, brushing off her fears as paranoia.

Standing in the middle of an empty street on the east side of London, she couldn't have been more wrong. Cherise's ears, now attentive and alert, picked up the sound of a third set of footsteps only a few paces behind them. She continued to listen down the street, hoping her senses were deceiving her. Still, the footsteps only grew quicker as they were nearing a corner.

"Father," she whispered, swallowing hard, "I think there's someone trailing us."

"I had that feeling as well," Edgar replied, voice hushed, "but let's not jump to conclusions now…"

She could tell by the way he frowned so deeply, and the way he would occasionally sneak a look over his shoulder, that her father didn't believe the words he said. But what could he do now? Neither of them had any means of protecting themselves. Her father towered over most, but was thin and of little muscle. Cherise certainly had little experience fighting back; the last time she did so having been when she was a child, wrestling with her cousin.

"Oi," a thick, rough accent sounded from their rear, "where are ya' going so fast now?"

Cherise clenched her jaw, the muscles in her neck straining as she closed her eyes. Fear lurched into her chest, strangling the air from her lungs. She wanted nothing more than to pretend she didn't hear him and just move on. Edgar gripped her shoulder tighter, bringing her closer to him as he pushed out his chest, desperate to look bigger than he was.

"Oi," this time the man spoke louder, barking as they quickened their pace, "I asked you lot a question!"

Before she knew it, Cherise was being ripped from her father by prying fingers. Edgar, off guard and in shock, was thrown against the side of a brick building, arms sprawled against the surface to keep himself upright. Cherise stumbled backwards, long skirt swaying as she was thrown further into the street, and letting out a loud yelp.

"Now let's ave' us a little chat, hm?" The man cooed, showing off yellowed teeth. He was shorter, but very stocky with a wide back and thick arms. His salt and pepper hair was short and topped with a bowler hat, and his eyes were dark and beady. Sporting the Blighter red, Cherise and Edgar immediately became aware of their situation.

"W-why bother us? What do you want?" Elsie tried her best to sound unafraid, but tripped over her own words. Rather than run to her father, she brought the man's attention upon herself. If she was lucky, he would ignore Edgar and hopefully have the decency to spare a woman violence.

"You know damn well why I'm doin' this, love." He looked up at her through narrowed eyes, a hint of cruelty swimming just beneath the surface of their dark hues. "Now, back to daddy."

Before Edgar could react, the shorter man gripped him by the shirt hard, and tore him from the wall. Edgar sprawled into the street, tripping over his feet before collapsing onto the hard cobblestone.

"Father!" Cherise cried, about to rush to his aid before the assailant crushed her wrist in his large hand. Tears began to well in her eyes from the sharp stinging in her joint, as the dark eyed man lifted it higher. Cherise screamed for anyone that could hear her, throwing her fist against the man's chest in desperation.

"We can't be ave'n none of that now, can we?" He hissed, gritting his teeth as he brought back his hand, and then striking it hard across Cherise's face.

"You bastard!" Edgar cried, trying to pick himself up, but falling over from a bloodied knee.

Just then, the attacker lurched backward, being pulled in another direction. He released Cherise, who nearly fell on her behind from the force, and scuttled about to keep his balance. Spinning around, face bright red and a scowl on his face, he readied his fists for whoever had interrupted his affairs.

"Who the hell-?!" He began to say, before knuckles met the hard bone of his cheek. The impact nearly knocked the large man over, and he shook his head around just to stop his vision from blurring.

Edgar was now on his feet, limping towards his daughter and wrapping her in his arms. Looking up with tear stained cheeks, Cherise held the side of her face, peering up with her father at their savior. Standing in front of the Blighter stood Jacob Frye, one hand on his hip, and the other waving off his last punch.

"Sorry, _mate_ ," Jacob mused, "but today's just not your day."


End file.
